


Of Silver and Gold

by ginaiswin



Series: Thoriana [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:50:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginaiswin/pseuds/ginaiswin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Currently on minor hiatus, will be back May/June]<br/>Thorin Oakenshield, before his journey to Erebor, meets Ariana Hayward, a Hobbit from the Shire. Though their meeting is brief, he never forgets her. After the Battle of the Five Armies, he invites her to Erebor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crossing Paths

Ariana lifted her lantern above her head – the night was darker than most, and she was late for returning home. This did not concern her as much as one might expect, as Hobbit families oft make more than they can eat for dinner, and the Shire is a safe haven for all Hobbitkind. As such, Ariana hummed to herself as she walked home, her furry feet treading lightly on the pathways. 

While the air was not chilly, for it was the last week of summer, Ariana was alone outside. The rest of her kin would be inside, chomping on their roasted dinners or puffing on their finest pipeweed.  


At least, she thought she was alone.  


“Excuse me, miss,” came a gruff voice from behind her.  


Ariana squeaked in alarm and dropped her book. Though the Shire is safe (as mentioned) and the speaker polite, she could not help but become fearful. Slowly, she turned around to face them.  


There, just inside the warm reach of her candlelight, stood a… well, she supposed it was a Dwarf – he, assuming he was a he, was taller than any Hobbit she had met, and was dressed in clothing too regal for her kin’s rustic taste. He watched her with a steely gaze.  


She fumbled for words. “Oh my,” Ariana said faintly. “You startled me.” One of his eyebrows raised, as if to say, I had no idea, as he glanced at her fallen book. Ariana’s face heated with a blush, which she tried to hide as she crouched to pick it up.  


Standing back up, she avoided his eyes, but her cheeks felt significantly cooler. She gave a small curtsey – his bearing gave him an air of authority. “How may I help you?” she asked, her voice stronger.  


“I seem to be lost,” he admitted reluctantly. “I have been wandering this damned town for longer than I care, and still I cannot find where I am meant to be.”  


Ariana’s pride flared. “Pardon me, sir, but this ‘damned town’ happens to be my home, and if you are visiting here, you would do well to respect it.” She lifted her chin a little in an attempt to look down on him, but being only three and a bit feet tall, it didn’t work as well as she would have liked.  


Still, he seemed humbled by her outburst. “I apologise. I have been travelling for several days without food, and being someplace where the air is filled with the smell is cooking, I grow impatient.”  


She almost smiled – perhaps he wasn’t as different as he looked. “Where are you looking to go?” she asked. “Oh!” She gave a small squeak. “I have forgotten my manners – Ariana Hayward.” Ariana dropped into another curtsey, deeper this time.  


The Dwarf inclined his head. “Thorin Oakenshield,” he replied. As Ariana righted her posture, their gaze met properly for the first time, his steel blue eyes connecting with her own orbs of honey brown. A shiver ran down her back. “I am looking for the home of Mister Baggins, if you know of it.”  


Smiling, she replied, “In a town like Hobbiton, everyone knows where everyone lives. If it pleases you, I can take you in that direction – I live on the other end of the road to him.”  


Thorin nodded. “Thank you, Miss Hayward.”  


“Please, call me Ariana.”  


Together, by the light of Ariana’s lantern, they began walking. For a while, they were quiet, not knowing what to say.  


Ariana broke the silence. “What business do you have with Mister Bilbo?”  


“I have a proposal for him to join me on a quest,” he said carefully.  


After looking at him for a moment, confused, the young Hobbit began to giggle, stopping in her tracks. Thorin, too, stopped, and turned to look at her, clearly unamused.  


Ariana strove to compose herself. “I’m sorry, Mister Thorin. But the idea of Mister Bilbo Baggins – of all people! – going on a quest is preposterous.” She fought back more giggles. “Our people are of a simple life, we do not crave adventure nor do we wish for it in wistful dreams.”  


Thorin merely gave a quiet grunt.  


“Perhaps, upon meeting Mister Bilbo, you will be convinced,” said Ariana, walking again. Thorin followed her. Curiosity overwhelmed her, however. “What is your quest, anyhow?”  


“I plan to visit my family members to the East.” The sentence seemed very rehearsed.  


“Then why would you require the presence of Mister Bilbo?”  


Thorin didn’t reply. Inwardly, Ariana shrugged. Though curious, it was not her place to pry.  


“I wish to reclaim my homeland.”  


The words had been spoken so quietly, Ariana wasn’t sure she’d heard them, but when she looked at Thorin, he was looking away from her, as if surprised, and perhaps somewhat angered, that he had spoken aloud.  


“Your homeland?”  


Closing his eyes and giving a sigh, Thorin seemed to resign himself to her curiosity. “Yes. After sixty years, I wish to return to Erebor.”  


Ariana’s eyes widened. “The Lonely Mountain? Wherein the Dragon Smaug slumbers? You cannot be serious!”  


Thorin stared at her, confused. Once again, the pair had stopped in their tracks. “You know the stories of Erebor?”  


Ariana blushed, wishing she’d never asked him his business. Twisting a lock of curly brown hair around one of her fingers, she rambled. “Yes, well. I study under Hamilcar Lightfoot, he teaches me what he can, though he is getting on in years.”  


“And what does he teach you?” Thorin’s voice seemed to have gotten darker.  


“History, geography, occasionally recipes,” she answered, her voice firmer than her heart (which was bouncing wildly in her chest). “While he taught me mostly of Hobbit lore, I sought to learn of other cultures. Smaug’s destruction of Dale and claiming of the Lonely Mountain is hardly a small event.”  


Thorin drew away from her. Looking away, the moon caught his face in profile, and Ariana’s heart, which had calmed down some, began to hammer away once more.  


“I’m sorry if I have offended you,” she said quietly, looking at her feet. After a moment, she added, “Prince Thorin.”  


Thorin once more set his eyes on the Hobbit maiden. “I would assume that you taught yourself of Durin’s Line.” Ariana nodded. The Dwarven Prince stepped closer to her. Gently, he placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted it up. Their eyes met again, and a spark seemed to fly between them. “Then you would know that I am the only one who can reclaim Erebor, so yes. I am serious.”  


Ariana’s face fell slightly. “Surely you will die? You are putting yourself, and so many others, in danger.”  


“Then, at least, I had the pleasure of meeting you first,” he said, voice low.  


Blushing, Ariana withdrew from their moment of intimacy. Thorin let his hand drop, watching as the Hobbit brushed her free hand on her skirt. “Come,” she said. “We’re nearly at Bagshot Row.”  


They walked almost all the way in silence, until Ariana stopped short. She pointed at the Hobbit-home beside her. “This is where we must part ways.” Pointing again, she added, “Mister Bilbo’s is in that direction – it’s the one beneath the tree, hard to miss.”  


After looking where she had pointed, and noting the faint glow of a moon rune, Thorin turned to look at her again. “Perhaps our paths will meet again someday.”  


“Perhaps.”  


But Ariana did not look so sure. Hoping to give her some form of promise, Thorin stood close to her, closer than they had even before. He gently took the lantern and book away from her grip, setting them aside on the mailbox by the gate. Ariana gazed up at him, a faint blush across her cheeks.  


“I hope that our paths will meet,” Thorin said, not quite a whisper. “For I look forward to seeing your face again.” He brushed his thumb against her cheek, pleased when Ariana leaned into it. “Though I wish our meeting had been longer, I am glad it happened.” Leaning in, he said quieter, “I also look forward to doing this again.”  


“Doing wha-“  


Thorin cut Ariana’s question short by pressing his lips to hers, long enough to be meaningful, but short enough to ensure he didn’t take it too far. Stepping away, he smiled at her for the first time that night. “Farewell, Lady Ariana,” he said before turning on his heel and walking towards Bag End.  


Dazed, Ariana watched him go. After a moment, she regained enough composure to pick up the lantern and book from the mailbox. Slowly, she walked towards the bright yellow door that marked her home. As she set her hand upon the handle, she looked down the street.  


Thorin was looking at her, his expression stony once more. Bag End’s door opened, and he turned to face (she assumed) Bilbo.  


Ariana opened the door and stepped inside, a smile on her face. “I wish you luck, my Prince,” she whispered through the doorway as she closed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if Thorin seems a little OOC here, what with telling Ariana about the Quest. But I tried to portray it as an accident (my friend suggested that, as she's not involved with the quest at all, he doesn't have to keep it from her). I'm still trying to get to grips with his character so do forgive me - it's my first time writing him.
> 
> Also, please let me know if Ariana starts becoming Mary-Sue-ish. Thank you in advance!


	2. Bilbo's Return

It had been nearly a year since Bilbo Baggins of Bag End had disappeared. Most had assumed he was dead, and his relatives, the Sackville-Bagginses, had been in the midst of selling his belongings when Bilbo returned. Fortunately for Bilbo, he and Gandalf had stopped by the Troll Horde wherein they had hidden many treasures, and the Hobbit was able to buy back his possessions.

A week after, Gandalf left Bilbo to his own devices, and it was then that an invitation for luncheon with Bilbo was sent to Ariana. 

She knocked on the circular green door at precisely one in the afternoon (the young Hobbit had always prided herself on her punctuality). After hearing a muffled “Aha!” and some footsteps, Bilbo opened the door with a welcoming smile on his face. 

“Ariana!” he exclaimed. “It’s so good to see you again.” 

Ariana embraced the older Hobbit. “And you, Bilbo.” Letting go, Ariana stepped into the hallway as Bilbo shut the door. “How did your travels fare?” 

He chuckled. “I shall tell you while we eat, for it is long and I don’t wish to starve you.” 

So they ate their meal in good company, with Bilbo regaling his adventures with the many Dwarves he had come to admire and love. Ariana listened intently, fascinated by the tale. Their food was gone long before Bilbo had finished, so they had moved to the parlour, bringing some tea from Esgaroth that Bilbo had with them. (The tea was floral and sweet, but with a sharpness of taste that somehow was not entirely unpleasant.) 

Bilbo finished his tale with an unexpected remark. “Oh! I have a message to give you – the true purpose of this meeting I’m afraid.” But he had a smile on his face, which Ariana took to mean that he didn’t completely mean it, and truly enjoyed her company. He reached over to the small table by his armchair, pulled open a drawer, and took out a sealed letter. 

“I’ve no idea what it says,” he assured her as he handed it to her. 

Ariana put aside her tea and took it from him. She slid her finger under the flap and broke the wax seal, then removed the parchment from its envelope. Unfolding it carefully, she began to read. 

By the time she got to the end, she was glad she had set her tea aside. Still in disbelief, she looked to Bilbo with wide eyes, as if he could help her understand. 

He merely chuckled. “Like I said, I don’t know what it says, but from that look – as well as the questions Thorin thought he was asking subtly – I can guess.” 

“Questions?” Ariana asked faintly. 

“Indeed.” 

“Such as?” 

Bilbo had to think about it for a moment. “Well… He asked mostly on the courting habits of Hobbits, which was unusual since he’d not mentioned you before then. Eventually, he let slip about a pretty Hobbit girl who lived down the road from me. It didn’t take me long to figure out who exactly he was talking about.” 

Ariana had taken to sipping her tea again in an attempt to hide her blush from Bilbo’s relayed comment. 

“After then,” he continued, seemingly not noticing, “it became a lot easier to advise him on such matters.” 

“I’m not sure if I should be grateful for your help or confused at the whole situation.” Ariana flopped back into her armchair, feeling mostly confused for all her understanding. She heard Bilbo suppress a chuckle. She looked over to him. “And he truly wants me to visit?” 

“I would assume so, he was certainly adamant that I deliver that letter to you.” Bilbo stood and took Ariana’s empty tea cup from her. “I don’t think he expects you to even remember him, so you should not fear any consequences from answering negatively, or not answering at all.” He bustled through the smial to return the tea cups to the kitchen, leaving Ariana alone with her thoughts for a time. 

When he returned, she was reading the letter over again. 

“I shall have to think about this,” she said quietly, her eyes dancing across the page. “It’s not a light decision I have to make.” 

Bilbo smiled. “Take all the time you need, I only ask that you let me know once you have made it.” 

“Of course,” she replied. Giving a quick glance at the clock on Bilbo’s mantelpiece, she stood. “I’m afraid I must hurry off, Bilbo. Mister Lightfoot will be expecting me.” 

“And we would not wish to deny him his apprentice, would we?” Bilbo walked Ariana to the door and saw her out. “It has been a pleasure seeing you again, my dear. You must come over again soon.” 

“As often as I can spare the time,” promised the younger Hobbit. With a smile and a farewell, Ariana made her way to Mr Lightfoot’s library, tucking the letter from Thorin into her bodice for safekeeping. 

-x- 

Ariana sat on the big burgundy armchair with her legs curled beneath her, a cup of tea in her hands (a Hobbit brew this time, its flavour smooth and sweet) and the letter from Thorin on her lap. She sipped at her tea as she gazed into the fire that was roaring on the hearth. 

Cara, Ariana’s mother, wandered into the parlour, straightening cushions and throws as she went. 

“Mam?” 

“Yes, Ari?” 

“Do you remember the time I came home spouting nonsense over a Dwarf?” 

Cara chuckled. “It’s not something I forget. What of it?” 

Ariana wordlessly held out the letter for Cara to read. The mother skimmed through it quickly, but had to double back to read it properly. 

“Ah.” 

Cara sat on another armchair, still reading the letter. “He does seem quite taken with you,” she said uncertainly. 

“Who seems quite taken with who?” 

Ariana blushed. “ _Dad!_ ” she groaned. 

“That Dwarven lad Ari met last year.” 

“ _Maaaam!_ ” 

Hob Hayward nodded sagely. “Aye. I remember.” 

Ariana resisted the urge to hide her face in her hands. 

“He’s asking for Ari to visit him in Erebor.” 

“I’ve not heard of Erebor. Where is it?” 

Cara shrugged. 

“It’s east of here, far east. I’m not sure exactly how many leagues,” Ariana said. 

“Well,” harrumphed Cara, “you certainly shall not be going.” 

Ariana felt her stomach clench in disappointment. Not that she understood why, she hadn’t exactly decided to go. 

“Let’s not be too hasty, Cara,” Hob said carefully, sitting down next to his wife. “We should talk this through.” 

And that’s what the three of them did, and the conversation lasted long into the night – they were still up when Hal, Ariana’s older brother, came back from his patrol around Hobbiton. Even then, they had not come to a decision – Cara was against it, Hob quite liked the idea, and Ariana was regretting ever bringing it up. 

“What’s going on?” asked Hal. 

“We’re trying to decide if Ariana should travel east,” Cara snapped. 

Hal looked at his sister thoughtfully. “It’s really her decision, but if she feels the same way about that Dwarf now as she did then, I don’t see why she shouldn’t go.” 

Silence settled over the smial at this. Cara seemed surprised that Hal would oppose her on the matter, while Hob looked amused. 

Ariana stood. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep on the matter. Goodnight.” There was a round of mumbled replies that Ariana was too cranky to care about as she left the room. Along her way to her chambers, she made a detour to the room opposite hers. 

Quietly, she opened the door and slipped in. The sleeping form of her sister was easy to make out from the moonlight shining through her window. An array of flowers sat on the windowsill, from which Ariana took a white flower and placed it in her sister’s hair. 

“You know you weren’t very quiet.” 

Ariana jumped. “Alla, I thought you were asleep.” 

“Kind of hard to sleep when you’re all arguing,” replied Allamanda, coughing a little. “But I think you should go.” 

“Why?” 

Allamanda shrugged. “Why not?” Ariana had no reply to that, so the youngest Hayward continued. “If your heart says go, then go.” 

Ariana nodded. “I’ll think about it. Sleep well.” She placed a kiss on her sister’s head and left the room. Upon entering her own room, Ariana slipped Thorin’s letter beneath her pillow and readied herself for bed. 

Sleep did not come easy, but she soon found herself dreaming of mountains filled with gold, and a future that could be hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smial - Hobbit word for their Hobbit-hole.


	3. To Make a Decision

Ariana rose early the next morning, though she did not wish to. Her dreams had been sweet and her sleep refreshing, and she never wanted to leave the warmth of her bed sheets.

At the same time, she could smell food. (And we all know how Hobbits feel about food.)

After a few minutes of debating on food or sleep, she finally agreed with her stomach. She slipped out of bed and reached for her dressing gown, shrugging it on and tying the belt around her waist. She followed the smell of breakfast to the kitchen, where – to her surprise and delight – Allamanda was sitting at the table, waiting.

“Alla!” she exclaimed, rushing over to hug her sister. “You feel well today?” She sat next to her at the small table.

Allamanda smiled and nodded. “I may even go to market with Mam.”

“Here’s hoping,” said Cara, preparing three plates. Turning with them in her arms, she set two in front of her daughters before setting her own down and sitting. The three Hayward women ate in companionable silence, their sausages taking precedence over talking.

The day that followed bore no mention of the previous night’s conversation, instead they chose to revel in Allamanda’s good health, spending all day out in the fresh air and having lunch in the Green Dragon. Her sister’s mood was infectious, and many of the Hobbits they came across shared in their happiness, expressing their joy at seeing Allamanda out and about.

It was on their way home that the topic finally came up.

“So have you decided?” Allamanda’s breath was short, her good health starting to fail once more. She leaned heavily on Cara as they walked back to their smial.

Ariana did not reply straight away, though she supposed she already knew the answer. Their mother looked at her intensely.

“Yes. I mean to go.”

Cara sighed heavily, but Allamanda’s face brightened into a smile. They reached the front garden of their smial, and Ariana held open the gate for the two of them. They passed her, Cara not looking at her, Ariana closed the gate then hurried to open the round, blue door that was the entrance to their home.

Inside, Allamanda was taken straight to the sofa in the living room, where Cara stoked at the fire with sharp thrusts, encouraging it to light. Ariana sat beside her younger sister and put an arm around her, into which Allamanda leaned.

“When?”

“I’m not sure. I will have to talk to Mister Bilbo, as he plans to travel with me for a while.” She paused, placing her cheek on Allamanda’s lighter brown curls. “Soon, I hope. I wish to see Thorin again.”

Cara chose this point to throw the fire stoker back into its holder with a resounding clang.

“You are not going!” she all but yelled. “You are not a Took, nor are you a Baggins! Haywards do not go on adventures!” Allamanda and Ariana stared at their mother, stunned at her outburst. Cara’s face crumpled, and tears began to well up in her eyes. “I will not risk losing my child.” Her voice came out as a barely concealed whine as she crossed the room and gathered Ariana in her arms.

“Mam?”

Cara sobbed into Ariana’s shoulder. “I fear that if you leave, you won’t return. I can’t lose you too.”

Ariana understood. She hugged her mother back, and attempted to calm her down. After some time, Cara’s sobs ceased and she was able to detach herself from the younger Hobbit. She caressed her daughter’s face briefly – Ariana brought her hand up to cover Cara’s.

“Mam,” she started softly. “I understand, truly. But… this is something I need to do. There is a yearning in my heart, and I will never forgive myself if I don’t go. I can’t help but feel that I am needed out there.”

Ariana’s heart sank as Cara’s face fell once more. But Cara nodded. “Very well. Just… promise you will come back to me.”

Ariana nodded. “I promise.”

And with that, Cara would have to be satisfied.

-x-

Ariana did not visit Bilbo for two more days, as each time she went, he had not answered. On the third day, however, the door swung open mere moments after she had knocked. He greeted her with a delighted laugh and a grin.

“Ariana! Come in, come in!” He stood aside to let her enter and closed the door behind her. They wandered into the parlour. “I trust you are here to tell me your decision?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I tried for the past couple of days, but you weren’t in.”

Bilbo nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, yes. I am sorry about that. I’m afraid that I went to visit my mother’s family briefly. Perhaps I should have left a note.”

“Anyway,” prompted Ariana, sensing an anecdote coming along (and while she enjoyed Bilbo’s stories, this just wasn’t the time for one).

“Oh, sorry!”

She smiled. “I will travel to Erebor.” She barely got to the end of her sentence before Bilbo cheered with delight.

“Splendid! Simply splendid!” he exclaimed, leaping up to his feet and beckoning Ariana to follow him from the parlour. Curious, she did so, and she followed him into his study. The room was messier than she would have expected, with open books and unfolded maps strewn here, there and everywhere. 

Bilbo rifled through a few maps before finding what was clearly the right one (how he found it she would never know). He smoothed it out on his desk – the only tidy place in the room. As she looked it over, she realised it was a map of the Shire, and some of the outlying lands.

“We shall travel to Bree first,” he said, pointing on the labelled dot on the map. “It will be by foot, but once we are there, we shall buy ponies and ride onwards to Rivendell.” He followed a path on the parchment with a finger. “From there, we will no longer be travelling fellows, but that is something to talk about at a later date.” He looked up at Ariana. “Are you feeling alright?”

Ariana had gone pale at the sound of ponies. She searched for the right words. “Bilbo… I… The plan is good apart from… well…” She stuttered, feeling a blush come over her cheeks. “I cannot afford to buy a pony.”

Bilbo looked at her. “Then it shall be a gift!”

“What? No!”

“Nope, you cannot change my mind. I will buy you a pony and that is that.”

Ariana tried to protest, but judging by the challenging gleam in Bilbo’s eye (where had that come from?) she decided against it. “Alright,” she sighed. “How long will it take us?”  
He looked at the map, concentrating. She supposed he was doing the math in his head. He hmmmed after a moment. “I would estimate at about a week, though I’m not sure. Last time I travelled east, I was given a pony and we did not stop at Bree.”

The tween nodded, still looking pale – she had no idea how to ride a pony, and the idea frightened her, but she supposed if Bilbo could do it, she could as well.

“I think,” he said slowly. “We should endeavour to leave in a few days. There are errands to run and arrangements to settle.”

“What should I pack?” Ariana asked, feeling completely lost.

Bilbo smiled. “I shall run you through everything you need to know, so do not fret Miss Hayward.”

And so it was that Ariana spend the next four days preparing to leave the Shire for the first time in her life. She was simultaneously excited and fearful of her journey to Erebor. Her mother, of course, spent her time fussing over her daughter – Ariana supposed it was so that she could fit several months’ worth of fussing before she left. Hob accepted her choice with the small smile and nod that Ariana knew to mean that he was proud. Hal outright expressed his jealousy.

Allamanda was joyful, though Ariana could not help but feel like she was letting her sister down. Ariana had always been there, and now – because of a Dwarf, of all things – she was leaving her. Allamanda tried assuaging her concern by telling her that she wanted her to go, and while Ariana nodded and said she was okay with it, in truth her heart still ached.

On the morn of the fifth day, she and her family stood outside Bilbo’s grander smial. Allamanda, though feeling ill, had insisted on bidding her farewell.

“Take care,” Hob said, embracing her.

“I will, Papa.” Ariana squeezed her father gently before standing before her mother, who was holding her pack.

Cara looked as if she were about to cry. Wordlessly, she held out the backpack that held Ariana’s belongings. Ariana took it and thread her arms through the straps and settled it onto her back. All of a sudden, Cara hugged Ariana with a fierceness only a mother could possess. “Come back to me,” she whispered.

“Always.”

Cara let go, and looked over Ariana’s shoulder. “And you, Mister Baggins.” Bilbo looked up, a little surprised. “You will protect her.”

“With my life.”

Ariana flushed, but moved on to Hal.

“May your travels be swift, sister,” he said, a little choked up.

“May your days be sweet, Hal,” she replied. They hugged briefly, then Ariana turned to Allamanda. They embraced for the longest time.

“I love you,” Ariana said, her throat starting to seize up.

“I love you too,” replied Allamanda hoarsely.

Wiping the tears from her sister’s eyes, Ariana smiled. They remained like that for a moment, until Bilbo called Ariana’s name. It was time for them to leave.

The two made their way down the hill, but before the Haywards could go out of sight, Ariana looked back and raised her hand in farewell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's mother's family, in this case, is Mirabella (Took) Brandybuck's family - she is the grandmother to Frodo Baggins. Just thought it would be a nice touch :)


	4. Journey to Rivendell

The journey to Bree was longer than Bilbo had expected, and a whole lot rainier. Bilbo didn’t seem to be as fazed by it as Ariana was, but he still held the same look of dismay when he saw the amount of mud coating their feet. Ariana, not used to the amount of walking they had done, was already fed up and aching and actually looked forward to riding a little bit.

Camping at night hadn’t been much better. Ariana struggled to sleep on the cold, hard ground. When she did manage to doze off, she woke at the smallest sound, paranoia and fear flaring. She longed for a bed.

They reached Bree on a dry day, and Bilbo headed straight for the Prancing Pony. Ariana followed close behind, eyeing the array of Big Folk around her. She’d never seen so many of them (then again, she had only ever seen Gandalf, so more than one of them was more than she’d ever seen before).

“Gandalf recommended this place to me,” Bilbo said, pushing open the heavy wooden door. The two entered the warm, busy inn. While not the homeliest of places, it still held a sense of safety within its walls. Even with the burly men in the corner, studying anyone who came close to them with such intensity, Ariana could feel it from the other side of the room.

“Why?” she heard herself asking, but her voice was lost amidst the raucous laughter from the inn’s customers.

Bilbo lead the way to the bar, where he knocked politely on the wood. After a moment, a large Man peered over from the other side.

“Good af’ernoon little sir, and little miss,” he said, smiling at them. “How can I be helpin’ ya today?”

Clearing his throat, Bilbo requested two rooms to be rented for the following two nights. The barman nodded and disappeared again. Ariana stood close to Bilbo.

“Are you alright?” he asked, glancing at her. She only had time to give a quick, unconvincing nod to him before the barman returned, two sets of keys in his hand.

“Rooms eigh’ and nine,” he said. “Tha’ will be eight castars.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo responded, placing eight gold-coloured coins into the barman’s outstretched hand. Once he had the money, he handed over the keys and disappeared again.

“I think baths are in order,” he said, holding out a key to Ariana. “Shall I meet you down here in an hour or so?”

Ariana nodded, taking the key. The two made their way to their rooms (Ariana was in room nine). As soon as the door was closed behind her, she dumped her pack – which seemed heavier than when she left – on the Hobbit-sized bed. Over the next hour, she massaged and cleaned her poor feet, brushing the foot-fur back into its rightful curls after being matted for so long.

Meeting Bilbo amongst the Men was tricky, and Ariana almost had a panic attack before she found him – for once in her life she felt so small. They ate a simple meal of bread and cheese before retiring to bed.

The next day, which was surprisingly sunny, Ariana was in charge of the supply run. She bought a few fresh ingredients from the market stalls as well as many preserved meats and dried fruits. While she had never been on such an adventure before, she knew from her books which should take precedence. Her tolerance of Men increased, helped as it was by the presence of Bree-Hobbits (if they could live among the Big Folk, she could at least be okay for a couple of days).

She was met with a shock when she returned to Bilbo later that day.

“A sword?” she almost yelled. “Bilbo! I- I can’t take that!”

Bilbo sighed. “And yet you must.” It was a simple sword, a long dagger in Men’s eyes, but large enough for a Hobbit. “There are dangers out there we may encounter, and while I can protect you from some, there will be times where I cannot.”

Ariana’s wide eyes flicked from the sword to Bilbo’s face.

“For my sanity, take it.”

Finally, Ariana reached out her hand to take it. When Bilbo placed it in her hand, it felt like her arm was about to come off. She gasped, trying to rebalance herself, staring at the sword as if it was about to stab her. Bilbo helped her belt the sword around her waist, where it hung low by her left leg. It took a while to get used to the weight.

They left Bree early the next morning on the ponies Bilbo had purchased. The pony given to Ariana was of palomino colouring, while Bilbo’s own was a deep grey. Having never been on a pony before, Ariana had to learn how to ride as they went, falling off a few times but forming a bond with the pony all the same. She named him Peanut.

Rivendell took even longer to get to than it did to get to Bree. The weather, to Ariana’s delight, fared much nicer than it had in previous days. Night times were easier to bear, and Ariana found herself either thinking ahead and to Thorin, or thinking behind and of her family.

One night, Bilbo and Ariana were sat eating a modest stew Bilbo had prepared over their campfire. The sky was clear and they were bathed in the light of the moon and the stars.

“Bilbo?”

“Mm?”

“What exactly did Thorin say about me?”

Bilbo stirred his stew around, thinking. “I remember it being quite odd, actually. It had been a quiet day and, out of nowhere, he appears beside me and – in a low voice – asks about Hobbit courting. I don’t remember the exact words he used, but whatever they were, they had me lost for words!” He gave a chuckle.

Ariana smiled. “What did you say to him?”

“I asked him why he wanted to know, but he kept dodging my questions. I didn’t find out about you that night, and neither did he learn what he wanted. It was after the Goblintown incident, while he was still healing did he actually mention you.” Bilbo took a mouthful of his stew, using the pause to think about his wording. “Once I had a name, it was all rather simple after that.”

“Really?”

“There was much teasing from his nephews, I’ll admit, for they had been eavesdropping!” He smiled. “After Thorin berated them, I told him what he needed to know, as well as what I knew about you in particular,” he added with a wink.

Ariana blushed. “Forgive me if I sound rude, but you didn’t know me then as well as you do now.”

“That is true, but I do have the advantage of knowing Hamlicar’s thoughts on you. He thinks the world of you.”

“Yes,” she smiled sadly. “He was disappointed to know I wouldn’t be around. Though I did convince him that it would be a good opportunity to study Dwarven culture.”

“He’ll be looking forward to your reports, I’m sure.”

Their conversation turned from personal to academic in nature, discussing what Ariana knew of the Elves from her books compared to what Bilbo knew from experience. He told her of Lord Elrond, who she would be meeting at Rivendell, and the shenanigans of the Dwarves popped up every now and then (bathing naked in their fountains indeed!).

It was almost a month later when the two Hobbits rode across the bridge into Rivendell. Ariana was in awe of the elegance that surrounded her. She was still apprehensive of the Elves, who seemed even taller than the Men had been, but they welcomed her warmly and treated her with respect.

Unfortunately, the first night there was when Ariana’s first bout of homesickness hit her square in the stomach. She was unable to sleep despite the soft beds, and found herself wandering through the halls, wanting nothing more than to cry and go home.


	5. The Last Homely House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid that updates for this and 'Dhi Kibil, Hi Kidhuz' will be less frequent, as I am returning to uni for my final semester tomorrow. I will continue this story, but uni comes first.

Ariana was sleepy and cranky during their first full day at Rivendell. She barely spoke to anyone, even Bilbo, and poor Lindir had been the one subject to her snappiness when he had asked her if she wanted breakfast alone (she didn't).

Elrond, who hadn't been present the previous day, arrived on horseback around mid-morning. Having not expected Bilbo, he was surprised to see two Hobbits wandering around his home. He and Bilbo spent some time catching up, while Ariana found the Library and holed herself up in there, desperate for a feeling of home.

While comforted by the books around her, the open halls and refined architecture still reminded her that she was far from the Shire. She took to reading, pretending that she was researching Elven customs for Hamlicar. It didn't work quite as well as she had hoped, especially when Elrond came looking for her.

"Ariana, I presume," he said, startling her out of her world of words.

Noticing his noble demeanour, she scurried to her feet to give a quick curtsey. "Yes," she replied, straightening. "Lord Elrond?"

He gave a small smile. "A pleasure to meet you. Bilbo has informed me of your journey to Erebor – quite an adventure."

"Yes, well…" Ariana fiddled with her fingers. "Thorin invited me."

An expression of mixed surprise and confusion flickered over Elrond's face, though it quickly smoothed over. "That is… quite interesting," he said slowly, his tone implying that he wished her to explain.

She smiled a little. "We met last year, before Bilbo left the Shire, apparently I've been on his mind and he wishes to know me better." Her smile dropped. "I look forward to it, but I miss my family."

Elrond was watching her intently. "Then why go?"

Blushing under his gaze, she replied, "I don't know. It feels right, I suppose."

"Hmm." Elrond turned away and looked out through the nearby window at the valley below.

Ariana narrowed her eyes, studying his expression. "You know why he invited me," she stated. "Or at least, you think you know." As he turned back to look at her, Ariana drew back, fearing she had offended him.

"Quite perceptive," he noted, but nodded. "Yes, I do think I know. But whether it is so remains to be seen. Would you like to send a message to your family?"

The change of topic was quite abrupt, telling her that she wasn't going to find out what his thoughts were. "Yes, that would be good," she answered instead, not wanting to challenge an Elf. He needlessly kept her company as she wrote her letter, assuring her parents she was fine, as well as writing another letter to Hamlicar, expressing what she had learned of the Elves.

After, though her homesickness sat heavily in her belly, she felt better.

"Are you not going to write to Thorin Oakenshield?" asked Elrond, who had been flicking through a red leather book.

Stroking the parchment with her fingers and gazing at the array of quills on the desk, she said, "No. I haven't messaged him about coming to Erebor, and I'd like to keep it a surprise." Folding her hands in her lap, she looked up at Elrond. "Speaking of which, Bilbo said he and I would part ways here. As much as I respect that, I don't exactly wish to continue alone."

Elrond closed the book and placed it aside. "And alone you shall not be. Bilbo and I have already made plans for this."

Surprised, she responded. "Oh. Well. I suppose I should ask what these plans are."

"You shall be travelling with my sons, Elladan and Elrohir," he stated. "They won't be back for another few days, however, as they are currently patrolling the eastern roads, keeping them clear with their band of warriors."

"Bilbo did express his delight at not being chased by orcs this time around," Ariana noted, nodding.

"That would have been them, yes. In the meantime, you are welcome to read as many books as you please. It is nice to know that they will be read once more." With a nod and a smile, Elrond stood and left Ariana in peace, taking her letters with him so that they could be sent on their way.

Rivendell was peaceful and beautiful, and Ariana could see why Bilbo wanted to stay there. "Perhaps I shall retire here," he mentioned to her one day over lunch. "Though not for a while, the Shire isn't fed up with me yet."

"I'm sure Lobelia is already," said Ariana, making Bilbo laugh. The minor feud between the two branches of the Baggins family was well-known throughout the Shire.

"You know, I still haven't got my spoons back."

Elladan and Elrohir returned from their patrols as the next unit of warriors left. Twins weren't common among Hobbit-folk, especially not identical ones, and Ariana had a tough time trying to figure out which one was which. She also met Arwen, Elrond's daughter, that day as she had come to greet her brothers.

"Elladan, Elrohir," greeted Elrond, a large smile on his face as he embraced each of his sons in turn. "How did your scouring fare?"

"They went well,  _Ada_ ," one of them said, Ariana guessed Elladan. "Took out a group of warg riders near Trollshaw, but nothing else to report."

Elrond nodded. "May I introduce you to your travelling companion, Ariana Hayward." He gestured to the Hobbit, who curtseyed nervously as Elladan and Elrohir turned as one to look at her. They pressed a hand against their breast, above their heart.

" _Mae govannen_ ," they said simultaneously.

"They shall stay with you to Erebor, where they are to pay homage to the King Under the Mountain," explained Elrond. He nodded to his sons and took his leave.

"We shall leave the morn after next," said Elladan. "I trust you will be prepared." Following after his father, Ariana watched him leave with confusion. She turned to Elrohir, who remained.

"Does he not like me?"

Elrohir smiled. "He can sometimes be a bit picky about plans. As long as we keep to his schedule, he will loosen up." He bowed his head to her. "I am Elrohir, and that was Elladan. I know we can be difficult to tell apart."

"That's an understatement and no mistake," she muttered. Her heart stopped the moment she realised Elrohir heard her. Turns out pointy ears lead to better hearing. To her relief, though, he let out a small snigger.

"I think you and I will be fast friends, Ariana," he said. "Now excuse me, I should like to change out of my armour." With that, the Hobbit was left alone, at which point she decided to return to the Library. Maybe there was something in there about the relation of Elves and Hobbits (shared ear shapes must have come from somewhere).

Elladan and Elrohir joined them for dinner that evening, as did Arwen who sat next to Ariana. Being surrounded by Big Folk was still unsettling, but she found that it didn't seem as bad as it had in Bree.

"So what takes you to Erebor?" asked Arwen, taking a bite of her meal.

Ariana poked at her sausages. Telling Elrond was one thing, but she knew Arwen even less. "Thorin invited me."

Arwen made no attempt to hide the surprise on her face, but it did turn into a smile after a moment. "Oh. I see."

Ariana blushed. "Yes, your father finds it quite interesting as well."

The Elf smiled. "To be fair," she said, "it is uncommon to see Dwarves taking romantic interest in women not of their own race." Ariana nearly dropped her fork. "Especially if they are one of royal blood," she continued. "It may cause some controversies in his people, but I think it would help him in his sickness."

"His sickness?"

"You don't know?"

Ariana shook her head.

"Dragon-sickness. It runs in his family, unfortunately, so he is like to succumb to it too." Upon seeing Ariana's confused expression, she expanded. "It's an illness of the mind – it makes one act very much like a dragon, coveting gold and acting hostile to any who may seem even the smallest amount of threat." Arwen shook her head. "Thror's love for gold is what drew Smaug to the Lonely Mountain in the first place. I hope Thorin does not make the same mistake."

Silence settled over the two women as Ariana digested the information in her mind. A part of her began to fear what she would find at Erebor – would she be reunited with the same noble Dwarf she met the previous year? Or would she be greeted by the same Dwarf but filled with greed? A shiver ran down her spine.

Despite these ideas, what Arwen said about her presence helping in his sickness returned to Ariana. Would it be possible that their connection they shared upon meeting could bloom into something more? (She dared not think of the word  _relationship_ , for she was only a young tween.) And could that 'something more' help Thorin defy the sickness that claimed his grandfather?

These were not thoughts to be taken lightly, and Ariana found herself mulling them over for the rest of dinner, and indeed during the next day.

The night before she was due to leave with the twins, she sat in her nightgown and stared at her gear. She had the chance to go back home, she did miss her family.

She packed her things, folding the dresses she had been wearing the past several days into neat squares and pushing them to the bottom of her pack. She laid out the clothes she was to wear the next day – some hand-me-downs from her brother that fit her well enough and were better suited to travelling in than her own clothing.

In a side pocket of her bag, she found the letter Thorin had sent her via Bilbo. Holding onto it, she smiled, and berated herself for even considering going back to the Shire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Ada - Father  
> Mae govannen - Well met


	6. Travels with Elladan and Elrohir

The three travellers left just as the sun finished rising from beyond the horizon, Ariana waved farewell to Bilbo from atop Peanut, flanked by the Elf twins' horses Feiroch and Belaith. The journey out of the valley was quiet, and Ariana took the time to settle into the saddle that had been gifted to her (Elrond was rather generous). They made their way towards the High Pass that lay a little north of Rivendell.

"But… isn't that where Bilbo fell down into Goblin-town?" she asked, gripping Peanut's reins a little tighter.

Elladan and Elrohir shared a glace.

"Well… yes," said Elladan.

"But it is being carefully monitored, do not fear," added Elrohir.

"Monitored? By who?"

"They are known as Beornings," Elladan explained. "They are skin-changers, Bilbo may have mentioned Beorn from his travels."

Ariana nodded, feeling a little reassured. But as they approached the mountain range, her feeling of smallness she'd possessed in Bree and the lesser amount she'd had in Rivendell resurfaced tenfold. She stared up at the mountains, uneasy.

Elrohir saw the look on her face and reached over to grasp one of her hands in his, giving her a comforting smile which she returned shakily.

The road they were following began to slope upwards into the mountains, but before they were enveloped by the high, rocky formations, Elladan called for a halt. The sun was lowering in the sky.

"We shall camp here for the night," he said, dismounting Feiroch. "While guarded by the Beornings, it can still be a treacherous path. We will continue in the morning."

Elrohir and Ariana dismounted their own rides, and Elrohir taught her how to untack her pony. After removing the reins from Peanut, she treated him to an apple and ruffled his mane. Kissing him on the nose, she went to join the Elves by the campfire that Elladan had lit.

"He likes you, you know," said Elladan, adding a few twigs to the fire.

"Who?" Ariana asked, confused.

"Your pony."

She looked round to Peanut, who gave a soft snort. "You can speak horse?"

Elrohir smiled, while Elladan seemed a little exasperated. Elrohir spoke now. "Of a sort, yes. Elves are more in tune with nature than most other races. We have a particular connection with horses."

Ariana nodded. "Bilbo bought him for me at Bree. Poor Peanut hadn't been very well looked after, so I've done my best to treat him well. It's good to know he appreciates it."

The Elves had glanced at each other with a mixture of amusement and confusion at the mention of Peanut's name, but said nothing. Feiroch and Belaith stood vigilant behind them, looking elegant with their grey coats and braided tails.

Elladan and Elrohir took turns with watches while Ariana slept – apparently, Elves don't require as much sleep as Hobbits. She woke to the smell of food before either twin could have the chance to wake her. After their quick cooked breakfast, they tacked up their mounts and began their journey into the mountains.

Although the route was considered safe, Ariana's heart beat wildly against her chest in fear – the ground was far below and the road they were following was narrow. They were leading their horses along, and more than anything Ariana feared losing Peanut to the depths just to the side.

Despite Elladan's warnings that it would be better to travel the mountains by day, they continued through the night, not wanting to even risk being ambushed in their sleep by goblins. It took them two days before they reached the open plains on the other side, and finally Ariana felt she could breathe again.

Elladan declared that the next day would be a rest day, so that they could catch up on their lost sleep and allow their energy levels to return to normal. They made a small camp in a shallow cave Elrohir deemed un-tampered with.

As it was still daylight, Ariana couldn't rest, so she spent the afternoon wandering through the trees. It was odd, however. The trees here had been uprooted, and many of them charred or turned to ash. Then she realised that she knew this place – it was where Bilbo had saved Thorin's life after Azog and his wargs had caught up with them.

It wasn't long after this revelation that she came across a peculiar item – a worn piece of tree, which had been lovingly shaped into a form suited to an arm. It had leather straps on the hollow side, while one end had two blunt metal spikes attached.

Cradling it in her arms, she returned to their camp, as the sun was setting and she grew tired. Elladan and Elrohir seemed to recognise the wooden object, and informed her that it was actually Thorin's namesake – his Oakenshield.

Though she tried, it was a little too large for her own arm, but she resolved to keep it on her nonetheless. It would be a fine gift for the King Under the Mountain, she thought.

-x-

During their time together, the twins had learned that Ariana knew nothing about either horse riding or sword fighting. While she had gotten on fine at a walk or a trot on Peanut, they decided to teach her the proper form.

Ariana usually prided herself on being a fast learner, but her specialty was books, not practice, and it took her several hours before she was deemed a 'passable' rider.

The idea of sword-training, however, was hard-won by the Elves, as Ariana refused to even  _touch_  the sword that hung by her hip. She'd never swung it before, and never intended to, but eventually Elrohir won the argument. (Ariana would forever say it was emotional blackmail that convinced her.)

Unlike riding, where she had at least learned a little from her earlier travels with Bilbo, using a sword was completely foreign to her, and she failed to even be 'passable' as a fighter. Elladan, who had been teaching her, said that she was probably never meant to wield a weapon. Ariana thoroughly agreed.

-x-

They resumed their journey the next day, following the route that Elladan called "the Old Forest Road". Ariana's arms were aching from the sword training, but she was yet to complain. They made camp several more times before they reached the edge of the forest it spoke of.

Ariana looked up at Mirkwood. The sight of it made her feel somewhat ill. "What's wrong with it?" she asked, stroking Peanut's neck (he didn't seem to like the forest either).

"There is a darkness in these woods," said Elladan, his voice heavy with sorrow. "It has poisoned the trees and attracts unwholesome creatures."

"But that is far to the south," Elrohir added, seeing the look of horror and fear dawning on Ariana's face. "We are closer to Thranduil's domain."

Elladan led the way into Mirkwood, followed by Ariana and with Elrohir at the rear. The air beneath the trees was stuffy, and the leaves blocked out all rays of sunlight from the ground, making Ariana feel closed in and paranoid.

They followed the path slowly, for which Ariana was glad – Peanut was spooking at almost anything and everything, giving startled snorts and shaking his head. She tried soothing him with words and gentle caresses, but nothing seemed to work.

"How much farther?" she found herself asking.

"A day, maybe two," replied Elladan, looking up. "It's… hard to tell." He scratched Feiroch between the ears absent-mindedly.

Ariana looked behind her to Elrohir, and was about to say something when she heard a rustle. All three horses stopped. Peanut, not being a trained warhorse, reared violently as a giant spider burst from the trees and towards the travellers.

The Hobbit fell to the ground as Peanut thrashed, and for a moment she thought she was to die at the hooves of her own pony. Elrohir managed to grab her blouse and pull her away from the spooked pony, just as he stamped where Ariana's head had been.

Elladan was up ahead, fighting another spider from atop his horse. Elrohir had dismounted, and Belaith was bucking at a third spider.

The spider that had spooked Peanut lunged at the two, but Elrohir shielded Ariana with his taller body, bringing out his curved blade in a glint of steel and a slice of spider flesh. The spider screeched in pain, but continued its assault. Unwillingly, Ariana drew her sword, hoping she wouldn't have the need to use it.

Scouring the nearby forest, her eyes settled on a bush large enough to hide under. While she wished she could help the Elves who had become her friends, she was a coward, not a fighter. Taking her chances, she ran to the bush and crawled inside. It seemed dense enough that the spiders wouldn't notice her, but she was able to peer through the thorny branches.

Elladan and Elrohir sliced and stabbed at the spiders, but several more had arrived, and they were starting to be overwhelmed.

From the opposite direction came the sounds of more slashing, and as Ariana turned her head to see what was going on, she saw a red-haired blur weave through their attackers. With the spiders distracted and unsure who to attack, the twins were able to hack down the arachnids, and soon enough the forest floor was littered with their corpses.

"Ariana? Ariana!" called Elrohir, spinning around wildly to find her.

"I'm here!" She clawed her way out from under the bush, covered in scratches. "I'm fine. Where's Peanut?"

Elrohir looked her over, making sure she wasn't bleeding too much, then pointed to where Peanut was still stamping. "I would not recommend going to him."

Ignoring him, Ariana cautiously padded closer to her pony. "Peanut," she said softly from a safe distance away. "Peanut, it's okay." Peanut seemed to recognise the voice, as he stilled for a moment and turned to her. He watched her warily as she held out her hand to him. "Everything's alright." Peanut sniffed at the hand and, finding her scent familiar, nuzzled into it gently. She stepped up close to him, running her fingers through her mane and humming a lullaby to him.

After a couple of minutes, she led Peanut back over to the twins, who had been conversing with the red-haired Elf who had helped them.

"Tauriel, this is Ariana," Elladan said as they approached.

The Elf turned out to be female. " _Mae govannen_ ," she smiled.

"Hello."

Tauriel turned back to Elladan. "I can guide you through the safer paths through Mirkwood," she offered. "But I will leave you at the edge."

Despite being on foot, Tauriel was able to stay apace with them as she led the three through the forest. Time seemed to have been warped in their minds, as it only took a few hours to leave Mirkwood – they must have been there for at least a few days, and having not slept, Ariana felt surprisingly sound of mind.

"I suggest you take a day or two to rest," Tauriel said as they left the canopy of leaves behind. "You may feel fine now, but come tomorrow your minds will readjust. The forest is unforgiving to travellers." She smiled at Ariana. "We will meet again soon," she promised before disappearing back into Mirkwood.

They made camp beside the river that led north, towards Laketown and, further still, Erebor. Looking out through the evening's haze, Ariana could make out the silhouette of the Lonely Mountain.

"Only a week or so to go now," commented Elrohir, looking out to the mountain too.

She looked up at him. "Is it wrong to be nervous?"

He smiled. "Of course not. But I know you'll be just fine anyway."

They spent the next few days camping at the edge of Mirkwood, as their weariness from the forest had caught up with them and made them tired and lazy. Once they were all refreshed, they followed the river Celduin up to Laketown.

It had been a couple of months since Ariana left the Shire, but being so close made her impatient to reach the mountain, to see Thorin again.

But first, they made a visit to Laketown.


	7. The Lonely Mountain

Ariana had to keep herself from whining – they were so  _close,_  why couldn't they go there  _now_  and suchlike. Her impatience had never been so problematic, but she managed to control it. They had to leave their mounts on the shore, the wooden pathways of Laketown did not lend themselves to the harsh hoof-falls of horses.

She kissed Peanut's soft nose before she crossed the bridge with Elladan – Elrohir was to stay with the horses for the time being. They were stopping off for supplies before continuing on to the Dwarven city.

Laketown was smaller than she expected, the stories she had heard had described it as an expanse of wooden pathways and houses on stilts. She mentioned this to Elladan.

"Smaug destroyed more than half of the town on his rampage," he explained as they wandered towards the centre of town, where the market was bustling with people.

Ariana would have asked more on the matter, but she found herself too fascinated by the people of Laketown to really focus (that, and she was trying to keep close to Elladan in the busy marketplace). She peered up at the Big Folk, marvelling at the variety of skin colours – they ranged from the creamy pale peach she'd come to associate with the Elves, through the familiar tans and light brown colours that reminded her painfully of the Shire, and into the darker browns that she had never seen on a person before in her life.

Both her and Elladan were being looked at by many of the citizens, despite them being used to Elves (they occasionally had visits from those of Mirkwood) and Dwarves – while Ariana was a Hobbit, she was only a little smaller than Dwarves and they had grown accustomed to the smaller folk.

Once finished, they returned to the shore, but while they were on the bridge, a voice called out to them.

"Excuse me! Wait a moment!"

Elladan turned to find a teenage boy jogging to them on the bridge. As he reached them, he stopped and gasped for breath. They waited patiently for him to speak.

"Sorry," he wheezed. "But my father has requested that you come speak with him."

"And who is your father?" asked Elladan.

"I am Bain, son of Bard," he answered, then he made a small face, trying to remember the right words, "Bard who is Lord of Laketown and King of Dale."

"Then we shall not keep him waiting." Elladan waved over to his brother, who waved back. "Lead on," he added to Bain.

Ariana and Elladan followed the boy back into town and towards the large building at the town square. Bain opened the door for them.

Bard sat behind a large desk at the other end of the hall, going through leaves of paperwork. "I realise none of us have met," he said, not looking up. "Yet your ears easily set you apart. I wish to know your names and your business here."

Elladan nodded. "I am Elladan, son of Elrond, Lord of Rivendell," he said. "My brother, Elrohir, waits for us on the shore. Our business here is to resupply – we have come to pay homage to the King Under the Mountain, though we did not realise there was a new King of Esgaroth."

"It is not something I have spread myself," said Bard, putting down a scroll and resting his chin on his hands, looking at Elladan. "Who is your lady companion? Her ears suggest Elven heritage, but her height reminds me of Dwarves."

"That is because she is neither," said Elladan. "She is a Hobbit of the Shire, and has come to visit Thorin Oakenshield for… personal reasons." Ariana could feel her cheeks redden.

"Very well. Will you be requiring an escort to the Mountain?"

"No – we have our own horses and can make our own way."

"And yet, you shall have an escort nonetheless," came a completely different voice. Bard seemed unsurprised by the interruption. A Dwarf with a long white forked beard walked over from a row of bookshelves nearby. He was clothed in red and had a faintly noble demeanour about him. He bowed deeply. "Balin, at your service."

Elladan nodded his head to him, Ariana made a move that was something between a bow and a curtsey (she was in her travelling clothes, which consisted of her trousers, a blouse and a cardigan beneath a fur-lined cloak).

Balin eyed Ariana knowingly. "You must be Lady Ariana," he said. "Thorin made no mention of your coming."

"I, uh," she started. "I didn't tell him. I wanted it to be a surprise."

He nodded. "That may not have been the wisest move, I'm afraid. He has been restless and, while he does not speak to me about matters of the heart, I believe it is because he has heard nothing from you." Ariana looked at her feet, feeling foolish. "No matter," he added hastily. "I am sure he will be pleased to see you."

Balin had his own pony brought to him from the stables that were situated further inland than Elrohir was waiting. They followed Balin north towards the mountain on the least arduous route. Ariana asked him questions about Erebor and of Thorin, and he answered them gladly.

Eventually, they found themselves near the city of Dale. It was in the process of being rebuilt, a task started now that the dragon had gone.

"How many people are there?" asked Ariana, seeing people bustling around and working on the city wall.

"Almost all the families from Laketown have moved," said Balin. "We are helping them with the building, giving them supplies and lending labour and so forth. Bard's daughters live there, the elder sister is in charge at the moment. She's young, but she seems to be doing well. Bard plans on returning when he has rebuilt and reorganised Laketown – there are still a few families planning to live there and fish."

Ariana listened attentively, it was altogether possible that any information she learned now would prove useful in the future.

She was about to make a comment when she saw the entrance to the Dwarven city.

There was still rubble in the valley, but the gateway had been rehewn from the remaining rock, looking as grand as it had ever been. Two giant Dwarven kings stood guard on either side, and a long balcony ran between their shoulders.

Elrohir leaned over from his horse and pulled Ariana's hood up. "I thought you wanted to surprise him," he said, smiling at Ariana's unworded protest. "This way, you will not be seen before you enter." She nodded, pulling her hood over her face, but she couldn't help but raise her head as they entered Erebor.

The sheer size of the halls they had entered was mind blowing, and Ariana could barely comprehend. The walls were lined with gold, and the glowing torches shone beautifully in the glistening cave.

Balin led them to the stables, which had a sky-light cut into the rock, allowing fresh air and sunlight to shine down on the horses while they grazed. There were conventional stables, small rooms for each horse, and a large pen where they were allowed to roam. Balin's horse was taken to a stable for unsaddling by a young Dwarf who looked curiously up at Ariana and the Elves but said nothing.

Elladan and Elrohir asked that their horses remain saddled, as they would be leaving soon. Peanut, on the other hand, was given his own stable at Balin's request. Ariana insisted that she untack him herself.

"King Thorin is in his throne room," Balin said, before giving directions. "I will go ahead and tell him of your arrival – and not of yours," he added cheerfully as Ariana opened her mouth. He smiled warmly and set off on his way. "See you in a moment then."

Elladan and Elrohir waited a few moments (Ariana took the time to change into a dress and quickly give Peanut a kiss on his cheek) before they set off. Following Balin's directions, they found themselves at the entrance directly opposite the throne.

Elladan and Elrohir strode forward towards the throne, making sure to stay close enough together that they hid Ariana from view. When they halted, they pressed a palm to their chest and bowed deeply.

"We are Elladan and Elrohir of Imladris," said Elladan, his voice ringing clear through the cavernous halls of Erebor. "We have come to pay homage to the King Under the Mountain."

Ariana peered carefully between the twins, shifting their tunics just enough to see past them while not being seen herself. Up ahead, sitting on an intricately carved stone throne, was Thorin Oakenshield. Above his head was a shining jewel, and to his sides stood what Ariana took to be some form of royal court. She recognised Balin, who had a smile on his face, knowing Ariana was in the room. On the other side stood an impressively muscled dwarf with tattoos on his head and arms.

"Your father treated us kindly as guests," said Thorin. His face seemed darker than she remembered. "As such, I extend our hospitality to you, Sons of Elrond." The words seemed rehearsed and bland. He was about to dismiss them with a bored wave of his hand when Elrohir spoke up.

"We thank you, and we offer you a gift."

Confused, Thorin looked up.

Elladan and Elrohir parted to either side, revealing Ariana from where she had been standing behind them.

Blushing, she stepped forward, gave a curtsey, and said – in a wavering voice – "My King."

Then, she waited.


	8. The King Under the Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly Reminder: There is a companion fic to this one called 'Dhi Kibil, Hi Kidhuz', in case you want to have a read :)

Apart from the wild beating of her own heart, silence greeted her. The soft thumps of Thorin's boots began, and Ariana heard the shuffling of everyone else as they left the room. His footsteps were getting closer and closer until his feet entered the edge of her vision. Trembling, she looked up.

There was a quiet fury in his eyes that scared her. "You didn't write to me," he said, his voice so low she barely heard it, but she could practically feel his anger. "Why didn't you write?"

She stumbled over her words. "I… I wanted to surprise you," she whispered, wanting to look away but finding that she couldn't. He towered over her menacingly.

Arwen's voice came to her.  _Dragon-sickness… acting hostile…_

"Surprise me? Have you any idea how not hearing from you has affected me? How often I have roamed these halls wondering if you even remembered me?" he ranted, his voice getting louder with each word.

Tears sprang to Ariana's eyes and, in her desperation, raised her voice as well. "I thought you'd be  _pleased to see me!"_  Thorin stopped mid-word, staring at her in surprise. Quieter now, she said, "I guess I was wrong."

She turned away from him, ready to exit the throne room, but he caught her hand in his. He spun her back around and pulled her to him, crashing his lips to hers in a surprisingly gentle kiss. They broke apart after a moment, and Ariana saw that his eyes seemed clearer.

"I am, of course I am," he said. He wrapped his arms around her as she pressed against his chest. He burrowed his face into her neck. "I'm sorry, forgive me," he murmured into her curls. "I have not been feeling myself recently."

She shifted her shoulder, prompting him to take his face from her skin and look at her. She reached up and caressed his cheek, smiling as he leant into her hand. "I forgive you," she said. "And for the record, I could never forget you."

Thorin smiled, though it seemed the tiniest bit terse, and they shared another kiss – more chaste and romantic than the last, though no deeper (it was not proper at this point in their relationship).

They entwined their fingers, and Thorin took Ariana on a tour of Erebor, remembering Bilbo's advice from so long ago.

Together, they wandered the cavernous halls and many suites of the mountain city.  _Here_  were the mining shafts,  _there_  were the melting rooms, and  _over yonder_  was the treasure room. Thorin's face darkened further as they drew closer, something that set off alarm bells in Ariana's head.

Arwen's voice returned.  _Dragon-sickness… coveting gold…_

Ariana cleared her throat before they got too close. "Where exactly will I be staying?" she asked. "I don't expect we'll be… uh…" her cheeks went pink, "sharing rooms…"

Thorin nodded thoughtfully, though he did have a small smile on his face. "Let us go find Balin," he suggested. "If I know him, he will have made arrangements during our walk."

She smiled at him, which he returned. They diverted their course away from the treasure room, and Ariana noticed that he did not seem so tense. Perhaps she was helping him.

It didn't take them long to find Balin – he was in his office, discussing something with a pair of Dwarves. Thorin knocked on the open door, and they hastily finished their meeting (although Balin did insist that they could finish their meeting).

"What did they want?" asked Thorin, taking a seat.

"They were asking for help on finding suitable farming land, preferably one we can share with Dale," replied Balin. "But that is sorting itself out. What is it you require?"

"Rooms, for Ariana."

Balin smiled. "I have set aside a suite for her, they are currently being cleaned."

Thorin gave Ariana a look that said  _I thought as much_ , which she smiled at. "Thank you," she said, turning to Balin. "Where are they?"

"Not far from the stables, I could see the friendship between you and your pony, and thought it would be best for the both of you."

Ariana gave a sigh of relief and nodded in understanding. Both her and Peanut were in a strange place with strange people, and while they may both have someone to care for them, a little bit of home would not go amiss.

"I'm glad you stopped by, Thorin, there are things we need to discuss," he said, looking at his King.

Thorin nodded. "Of course," he said. "I'll take Ariana to her rooms and come back here." Balin nodded assent, and Ariana and Thorin left.

He took what Ariana suspected to be the long way back to the stables, where they dropped by to see Peanut. Elladan and Elrohir were there, taking Feiroch and Belaith from the pen and tightening the girths around their bodies. Ariana bid them farewell, giving each of them a hug as they promised to visit her (a pang of jealousy on Thorin's face was not missed by Ariana's sharp eyes).

Ariana was properly introduced to the Dwarf who had helped them that morning – Marr, the son of the stable master. Marr seemed stunned to be in the same room as Thorin and kept tripping over his words, but listened attentively as Ariana gave him notes on what foods Peanut liked. Marr assured her that he would take good care of Peanut.

She and Thorin found her rooms tidy and empty when they got there. It was simple in build and design, but a lush blue rug dominated the floor and a magnificent four-poster bed could be seen in through the doorway at the other end of the room. Her bags, which had been originally left with Peanut, were sitting on a desk in the corner next to a covered silver plate.

"I'll have to go see what Balin wanted to talk to me about," said Thorin. "Will you be alright on your own?"

She smiled. "I'll be fine."

He pressed a kiss to her hand. "I will collect you for dinner," he added as he left, closing the door behind him.

Alone, she stood in the middle of her room, and took a deep breath. She made it, she was finally there. Laughing with a mixture of disbelief and joy, she went over to the bed and collapsed on it – it had been many a night since she'd been on a proper bed. The mattress was soft and the pillows plump. The deep blue duvet was welcoming and warm, she could almost fall asleep.

Her stomach rumbled.

Forcing herself to get up and off the bed, she wandered over to the desk in the solar and lifted the plate cover to reveal a small lunch of fish and potatoes with a side of leafy greens. An elegant set of cutlery was laid neatly on a napkin. Not able to resist the smell of food, Ariana dug in.

After she finished her meal, she discovered a small bathroom adjoined to her bedroom. Thanks to the wonders of Dwarven plumbing, she was able to have a hot bath. She spent at least an hour in the tub, scrubbing at the thin layer of grime she'd built up over her journey east.

Draining the dirty water, she had a second bath, but this was more for relaxation than cleaning. She didn't spend as long in the water, as her skin was getting wrinkly. She wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and dried herself off.

She padded into her bedroom and had a quick look in the drawers – empty, which wasn't surprising – before rummaging to the bottom of her pack to pull out a shift and put it on. She sat at the vanity in her room and brushed through her tousled hair. She pulled it back into a low bun while it dried, and put on one of her dresses.

It was sky blue and of a simple design, not having the traditional corset that her other dresses had, and it was all of one material. She threw on her lighter cloak, as her shoulders were chilly, and then made her way back to the stables.

Once there, she asked Marr if they had any grooming supplies, and if he would teach her how to groom Peanut properly. Marr, less jittery without Thorin's presence, taught her the right technique for brushing his coat and told her how to clean his hooves (though they had already been cleaned that day, so Ariana wasn't able to try).

She returned to her rooms, feeling happier now she'd made a friend of her own. Humming to herself, she began to unpack her belongings from her pack – placing clothes in the drawers and hanging up her two other dresses in the wardrobe before tucking the bag beneath the bed.

On her vanity, she placed a frame which held a small painting of her family. Ariana smiled sadly, tracing the lines of their faces, when a knock sounded at the door.


	9. The First Night

Opening the door, she was surprised to see Thorin there. "Is it dinnertime already?" she asked.

He smiled. "Not quite," he said. "I have prepared a gift for you."

Ariana's eyebrows raised. "A gift? Thorin, you didn't have to."

"But I wanted to," he interrupted before she had the chance to continue. "Shall we?" he added, offering her his arm. Taking a breath and nodding, she slipped her arm around his and smiled. They strolled through the halls, Thorin asking her if she liked her rooms and what she'd done while he'd been busy.

They reached a small room which, while clean, hadn't been decorated. The few pieces of furniture made it no less bland, but the rolls of material in the shelving helped give it a bit of colour. A Dwarf was rearranging a selection of thread spools by colour. Judging by the skirts and the subtle curves of the Dwarf, Ariana guessed that this was a female (the first she'd seen).

Thorin cleared his throat and she turned round. Ariana couldn't help but stare at her braided beard that curved around her jaw and into her dark hair. She gave a quick curtsey.

"My Lord."

"Ariana, this is Skaut," he said. "She is our seamstress, I have asked her to make you a dress." Ariana went to protest, but Thorin put a finger on her lips. "A gift, kibilinh."

"Well, if you insist," she sighed, but smiled. She turned to Skaut. "Hello."

"Pleased to meet you," Skaut said, dropping into another curtsey.

"No, please don't curtsey," Ariana said hastily.

Mid-curtsey, Skaut nodded and stood back up. "If you would, my Lord…" She gestured to the door.

"Oh, yes," Thorin said. "How long will it take?"

Skaut's eyes roamed over Ariana's body, making her blush. "No longer than fifteen minutes, I think."

Thorin nodded. "I shall wait outside." He brushed his thumb over Ariana's cheek gently before exiting the room and closing the door beside him.

Seeing Ariana's sudden awkward expression, Skaut smiled and took her hand. "If it helps," she said softly, "I don't bite."

Ariana gave a quiet snort of laughter. "But, judging by the amount of pins you have, you may prick me yet."

"Not if I can help it." Skaut led Ariana to a low stool which the Hobbit stood on. "I have already made a dress for you, from the King's specifications, I just need to alter it to fit you." She looked at the fastenings on Ariana's chest before undoing them speedily (Ariana blushed furiously) and taking off the dress. "If possible, I would like you to keep your eyes closed until I'm done."

Ariana nodded, and closed her eyes. Skaut slipped the dress over Ariana's head, hanging loosely off her body. She felt the hem of the dress skim her feet and she shuddered, a little repulsed (Hobbit feet were very sensitive). "Uh," she stuttered, trying not to open her eyes to look. "If possible, could you lift the skirt up a bit?"

Skaut made a muffled noise of confusion. Ariana explained a little of Hobbit clothing customs, and Skaut made another muffled noise, this one of understanding. A few ruffles later, Ariana felt the skirt being lifted and she almost sighed in relief.

The seamstress made small talk as much as she could with pins in her mouth, and twenty minutes later (what with the new hemline) she stepped back.

"Yes, I think you can open your eyes now."

Ariana obeyed, and gasped as she saw herself in the full-length mirror propped against the wall. She was wearing a gown of deep blue (the same blue Thorin wore, actually), with a band of silver just beneath her bust. Silver lined the hem, the wrists and the square neckline. While simple in design, it was elegant and still distinctly Dwarven (though with the Hobbitish flair of the lifted hemline).

"It's beautiful," she breathed, swirling around in the heavy velvet. "Thank you."

Skaut smiled. "You're welcome. Come, the King will be waiting."

Ariana hopped off the small pedestal, releasing her now-dry curls from its bun, and made her way towards the door, which Skaut insisted on opening for her.

Before she could, though, Ariana asked, "What of my dress?"

Skaut glanced back at the sky blue dress that hung on a rack at one end of the room. "I'll make sure it is delivered to your rooms." She smiled. "Have a good evening, Lady Ariana." She opened the door, and made a quick curtsey before Ariana could complain.

Thorin was pacing in the corridor when she came out, but he stopped and stared at her in awe. "You look beautiful," he murmured.

Ariana blushed at the compliment. "Thank you."

He stepped closer, his hands hovering as if afraid to touch her. She smiled and took his hands in hers. "I'm not going to disappear," she said softly.

"I hope not." He cleared his throat. "Dinner should be ready now." They walked through the corridors again, this time hand in hand instead of arm in arm. When they reached the dining hall, though, they swapped back to it.

The room was smaller than she expected, but there was a large circular table in the centre, filled with meat and vegetables. Around the table were fourteen chairs, each with a set of plates and cutlery neatly placed in front. The rest of their dining company were already seated, though they stood as Thorin and Ariana entered, only sitting when Thorin waved a hand.

He pulled out Ariana's seat for her as she sat, then sat down himself. Balin was on Thorin's other side, next to the gruff Dwarf she remembered from earlier. The two seats next to her, however, were empty, as were three others across the table.

When she brought this up, Thorin said, "My nephews, along with Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, have returned to the Blue Mountains to find their mother and aim to bring back colonists for Erebor."

Dinner was far from quiet, though it was somewhat more civilised than the meals Bilbo had described to her. Dwalin, the gruff Dwarf, did seem rather fond of tearing at his food however, despite Balin's grumbles. The well-to-do Dori was instructing the youngest brother, Ori, on proper cutlery use while simultaneously stopping Nori from stealing crockery. Oin was conversing with his brother, Gloin, apparently discussing the budget for the healing rooms.

All through dinner, though, Ariana was mainly ignored, except for a few curious glances here and there. She kept to herself, not speaking up but only watching. Thorin noticed her silence, but could only squeeze her hand quickly before being dragged into conversation with Balin.

When all the food on the table had been eaten, the Dwarves drifted away from their chairs one by one, eventually leaving Ariana and Thorin alone (until a couple of serving-dwarves came along to tidy the table).

Ariana sighed deeply.

"Are you okay?"

Ariana shrugged, giving a small smile. "Yeah, just… tired. Exhausted, really." As if to emphasise her point, she gave a great yawn. "I think I should retire to my rooms."

Thorin walked Ariana to her rooms, where he lingered awkwardly. "Is… everything alright with your suite?"

Ariana smiled. "So far, yes. The style is different from home, but they're nice enough." She looked over to the couch that sat in the middle of the solar, facing the fireplace that someone had been kind enough to light. "Would you like to come in, for a while?"

Thorin looked at her in surprise. "Is that appropriate?"

She giggled. "Yes. We'll just be talking."

Thorin followed her in to the solar, and she closed the door after him. He waited for Ariana to sit down on the sofa before he sat down on the other end. He leaned with his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. Ariana smiled fondly, practically sensing his nerves.

"You haven't done this much, have you?" she asked quietly.

He cleared his throat, but it seemed loud and forced. "No. Never."

Ariana's eyebrows raised. "Never?"

"I've been somewhat preoccupied with looking after my people for the past sixty years," he snapped before calming himself down. "I haven't exactly had the time to think about romance."

Ariana stared at him.

"What?"

"How old are you?"

Perturbed by the question, it took him a moment to answer. "A hundred and forty three, why?"

Ariana nearly choked on her breath. "I'm only thirty one," she replied weakly, watching as Thorin paled.

There was a long, awkward (so very awkward) pause before they spoke again. "How long do Hobbits live?" Thorin finally asked.

"About a hundred years, sometimes more."

He stared at the fireplace, though his eyes were glazed over, figuring out the maths in his head. He came to a conclusion, feeling significantly better. "Dwarves live to two hundred and fifty, though the Line of Durin – of which I am a descendant – live a little longer. So if you were a Dwarf, you'd be about Fili's age. He's eighty-two," he added, for Ariana's benefit. "An adult, in our terms."

Ariana nodded slowly. "Good," she breathed, relieved. "That's… wait." She stopped mid-sentence as a thought came to her. "I won't live as long as you, so… is this even worth it?"

Thorin looked at her sharply, disbelief clear on his face. He shifted closer to her, taking her tiny hands in his. "Of course it is. Why on Arda would you think it isn't?" She shook her head, refusing to look at him.

"You'd be better off finding someone of your own kind, someone who can stay with you longer than I can."

"No, I wouldn't." He concentrated on his breathing for a minute, while Ariana stared at him. After he'd collected his thoughts, he said, "You were the one that brought me back from death, Ariana." He watched as she mouthed the word death. "Yes. There was a battle, and I nearly died. The thought of seeing you again helped me heal. It might be true that I could find someone who will live with me for decades, but my heart wouldn't be in it. My heart has been with you, since that night."

She finally met his eyes. "Really?"

"Truly."

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Dwarves love rarely, and have a tendency not to let go when they find it. I would rather have a few decades with you by my side, than marry for politics or live alone for the rest of my life."

Ariana didn't know what to say to that, so she kept quiet. They spent an hour just being together, listening to the others' breathing, feeling the warmth in the others' hands, and just existing with each other. They parted with a soft kiss before Ariana changed for bed, wondering what exactly she had gotten herself into.

She stroked the portrait of her family before sliding under the welcoming covers, feeling her heart tearing itself into two – one half devoted to her family, the other tying itself to Thorin.


	10. Ghiluz-ze

Ariana was awoken the next morning (she assumed, there were no windows in her bedroom) by a young female dwarf knocking on her chamber door.  She was a pretty little thing, looking no older than Ariana. Her hair was similar to the colour of straw and her face was round and youthful, bright copper eyes shone from beneath her braided fringe.

“Apologies, miss,” she said, her voice high but sweet. “My name is Fulla, I’ve been appointed as your… handmaiden?” She seemed unfamiliar with the term.

“My what?” asked Ariana, a little groggy from the unexpected wake-up call.

“I’m to help you get ready for the day and ensure that you’re educated on our culture.” Fulla glanced behind her and added conspiratorially, “It’s rare that a non-dwarrow learns these things, but King Thorin himself decreed that you be integrated. You’re very lucky.”

Ariana brightened at the word _educated_. This was a dream come true – she had studied the cultures of Men and Elves, but never had there been anything relating to dwarven culture. She got out of bed, grinning giddily. Fulla eyed her warily at the change of mood, but stepped forward to help the Hobbit out of her nightclothes.

At first, Ariana protested, stating she didn’t need help dressing herself, but eventually Fulla won her over by threatening to not take her to the Archives (she’d seen an opportunity, and she’d taken it… Fulla was crafty, Ariana learned). They chose the mint green dress Ariana had brought with her, as the other dresses that had been commissioned for her were still being made by Skaut.

Fulla had brought Ariana a breakfast of what seemed to be lichen-based food. It was unusual, to say the least, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it, though it was incredibly filling and flavourful.

“So, Fulla,” started Ariana on their way to the Archives. “What brings you here? I know the story of the dragon and the reclaiming of Erebor, but barely any of the re-habitation of the Mountain.”

The young Dwarf thought for a moment before answering. “After King Dain of the Iron Hills brought his people to help our kin defeat the orcs, he returned with messages from King Thorin asking for aid in colonising Erebor again. Many had stayed for healing after the Battle, most of whom had chosen to help King Thorin. My beloved is one of them.”

“You’re betrothed?”

Fulla nodded, and pointed to her braided fringe. “This braid here signifies this. Lofin braided it in himself.” She smiled fondly as she played with a couple of the beads in her hair that held the braid down. “I am very lucky that he is alive.”

“Where is he now?”

“In the Healing Rooms. He was badly wounded during the Battle, but he has chosen to remain here, so I followed him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that he was wounded, Fulla. Is he healing well?”

“Yes, thank Mahal.” Ariana could almost see the relief in Fulla’s eyes.

“I’m sorry if this sounds ignorant, but who is Mahal?”

“Don’t apologise, miss. Mahal is our name for Aulë, the Maker. He is the one who gave us life in the beginning.” Fulla went on to explain about the basic history of the dwarves, how Mahal made them rough and determined, and that they were created before the elves, but awakened after.

When they reached the Archives, Fulla couldn’t help but giggle a little at Ariana’s awed expression. Deep in the Mountain, the library was enormous and unscathed from Smaug’s wrath. Having had no gold here, he had been disinterested.

The Archives were truly magnificent. Rows upon rows of bookcases, reaching up into the tall ceiling; each section had a ladder with wheels attached to allow their readers to reach the upper shelves. Ariana glided over to the nearest shelf and traced her fingers over the spines reverently.

“This place is beautiful,” she breathed. Pausing over a tome thicker than her own head, she caressed the embossed letters on its spines. Ariana leaned in to look a little closer. “What does this say?”

Fulla peeked over her shoulder. “ _Genealogy Report, SA175_ ,” she translated. “They used to keep records of all familial trees in Erebor.”

Ariana gave a small giggle. “We do much the same at home. I can trace my family back generations.”

The dwarf shrugged. “Unfortunately, since Smaug’s invasion, we’ve lost a lot of information as well as dwarves.”

“That’s awful.”

Fulla shrugged again. “I suppose. We never kept any in the Iron Hills. We were happy with just stories of fabled ancestors.”

Ariana nodded, then turned her attention back to the letters. “Is this dwarven language?”

“Khuzdul, yes.”

Fulla and Ariana turned to look at the source of the voice. A male dwarf stood near the end of their row, carrying parchment and quills. He had a ginger bowl cut and wore layers of wool.

He looked away shyly. “Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

“No, no. It’s fine. Ori, isn’t it?”

Ori smiled. “Yes miss. And you’re Miss Hayward.”

“It’s Ariana, Miss Hayward sounds… too strange for my liking.”

“Ariana then. Pleased to meet you properly.”

“You too, Ori.” Ariana curtseyed, and was reciprocated with Ori’s slight bow. She gestured to Fulla. “This is Fulla, she’s to introduce me to your culture.”

“Hello,” he waved shyly. Fulla smiled kindly, but said nothing. “Anyway, I should get back to my work. I’m taking note of what’s still here, what’s still readable, and what we can use to help Erebor get back on its feet,” he added, answering the question before Ariana had time to ask it.

“Could I be of any help? I mean, I have nothing to do with my day, and it would be nice to make some friends.”

Ori considered it. “I don’t know… most of these are in Khuzdul, which you can’t read.”

“Yet. The best way for me to learn languages is to translate already written works – it’s how I learned the little Elvish I know.”

“You can speak Elvish?” asked Fulla, surprised.

“Some. I don’t think I could hold a conversation, but I can do some sentences.”

“I think it’s a good idea. Would you be alright with that, Master Ori? Just for a couple of hours a day?”

Ori smiled widely. “Of course. Would you like to start now?”

Ariana grinned. “I would very much like that, thank you.”

Four hours later, Thorin found Ariana and Ori in the back corner of the Archives, sat at a desk full of papers, thoroughly discussing the details of genealogy and theorising on how they could reconnect the current habitants of Erebor with the truth of their lost families while Fulla folded and refolded scraps of paper into different animals.


	11. Downtime

In the following days, Ariana spent her mornings with Fulla, visiting different areas of the Mountain and the dwarf teaching the hobbit different aspects of dwarven life. After lunch together, Ariana would make her way to the Archives for her lessons with Ori (while Fulla visited her betrothed in the Healing Rooms). Dinner and her evenings were spent with Thorin, which was a time sorely needed for the King Under the Mountain to relax during.

During these evenings Thorin would describe to her stories of his youth, before and after the dragon-forced exile from Erebor. He told her of the splendour they were so desperately trying to recapture, and of the hardships he once faced in order to look after his scattered people.

She, in turn, would speak of the quaintness of the Shire, how she studied cultures as much as she could from Hamlicar since she was a young girl.

“That’s part of the reason why I accepted your invitation here,” she went on to explain. “You dwarves are so secretive about your customs that it when the opportunity arose, I couldn’t help but take it.”

“Part of the reason?” Thorin asked, amused. “What was the other part?”

Ariana blushed. “Well, you of course. When we met, I could feel a connection – a strong one. Not dissimilar to those felt between elven couples. They often know how they will feel about a person soon after meeting them.”

Thorin made a vague _hmm_ ing sound and stared into the fireplace in Ariana’s sitting room. A few books from the Archives were strewn on the tables and opened to various pages. Ariana watched him expectantly.

“Elves have love at first sight?”

“Not quite, but essentially they feel a very strong attraction to who they usually end up being with forever. Are you thinking about your nephew and that elf-lady, Tauriel?”

He nodded, pensive. “I do not approve of their relationship, but if they are meant to be… then I suppose there is little I can do to stop it.”

“Well there’s one way to look at it.” Thorin looked at her, confused. “Besides,” she continued. “He’s your family, and if he’s happy with her – and she is with him – then let them be together. Kili’s happiness should be a larger priority than your own in this matter.”

Smiling, Thorin stroked her hand. “You’re very wise, Ariana.”

She laughed quietly. “Thank you, but I just believe that family should stay together.”

“And what about your family? You left them to come here.”

Ariana sighed. “I miss them deeply, but staying together doesn’t necessarily mean physically. We write, and I know they love me. I’m enjoying being here, and that’s what matters to them.”

“Do you want to go back?”

His tone was sombre, and his blue eyes sad. Ariana reached up to caress his cheek and delicately play with the braid in front of his ear. “One day, but not yet,” she said softly. “This past fortnight has been amazing, and I’m not quite ready to give that up.”

Thorin leaned down, and she rose up to meet him, their lips touching gently in one of the many chaste kisses they shared during their evenings together.

Breaking apart, they both had the same satisfied smile on their faces. They stayed close for a moment until Ariana leaned her head on his shoulder. Together, they gazed into the fireplace, saying nothing for they were comfortable in the silence.

After a time, Ariana’s head grew heavy and her eyes weary. Thorin, upon noticing this, carefully picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He placed her underneath the covers and watched her settle into the mattress before kissing her forehead and leaving her rooms to retire to his own chambers.

As with all nights, he went to sleep calmer and happier than the last.

* * *

Ariana woke the next morning to Fulla grinning at her from the doorway.

“Good morning miss Ariana!” she chimed.

“What in Arda has got you so cheery?”

“Lofin has been deemed healthy enough to leave the Healing Rooms today.”

Ariana sat up in bed. “That’s wonderful, Fulla!” She thought for a moment. “Do you want to have the day off?”

Fulla looked almost shocked at the very idea. “But, miss!”

“I insist. I’m sure that I’m familiar enough with Erebor that you could leave me for a mere day.” The dwarf looked conflicted. “Go, be with your beloved.”

She broke out into an even wider grin than before. “Thank you Ariana!” she exclaimed, crossing the bedroom and giving Ariana a tight hug before practically running out of her room.

The hobbit chuckled to herself, proceeded to get out of bed and prepare herself for the day.

Now dressed in one of the few hobbit-trousers Skaut had made for her – this pair a lovely sandy colour – and paired with a dark brown blouse, Ariana made her way to the stables. She nodded politely to the stable master, who was cleaning out one of the stables, and found Peanut waiting for her.

He whinnied quietly as she approached.

“Hello Peanut,” she responded, reaching up to stroke his velvety nose. “How’d you like to go for a ride, outside?”

Peanut nickered happily, making Ariana laugh.

With the help of Ridarr, Ariana saddled Peanut up (who waited patiently but not quietly) and led him out of the shelter of Erebor.

Outside, the sun was shining in the cold winter air, and Ariana wished she had brought a cloak; but with Peanut getting frisky beside her, she knew she couldn’t go back inside now.

The grounds beyond the gated entrance of the Mountain were desolate and a murky dark grey colour, contrasting against the cloudless blue-ish sky. She mounted Peanut who, once she was properly seated, needed no encouragement to break into a canter in the flat fields before him.

Time seemed lost as hobbit and pony enjoyed the fresh air. Though she had enjoyed the comforts of Erebor, a hobbit is most at home in the open air of gardens – this would have to do for now. And while little Peanut had been exercised in the wide spaces dedicated to their ponies, he too had missed the true sky.

When Peanut finally calmed down to a trot, then to a walk, both he and the rider were breathing heavily (and Ariana was now glad she did not bring her cloak, and was certain her face was red as a home grown tomato). Grinning ear to ear, she leaned over and patted Peanut’s neck in appreciation.

“Atta boy,” she praised. “Feel better now?” Peanut snorted. “Me too.”

She pulled the left rein gently and guided Peanut back towards the Mountain to find a familiar figure strolling towards her. Squeezing both reins this time, she brought Peanut to a halt and dismounted (a little clumsily from lack of recent practice), took the reins in her hand and walked up to meet the figure.

“Enjoying yourself?” Thorin asked as they closed the gap between them.

Ariana laughed. “Yeah,” she said, a little breathily. “I thought you were busy today?”

“Meetings ended early, I’d bore you with the details, but I’m sure you have other topics in mind.”

“I have a few questions.”

“Then you may ask.”

She looked around at the land stretching beneath them, listening to the sound of Peanut scraping his hoof on the ground, bored. “What was this part? I’m sure, before Smaug, it wasn’t like this.”

Thorin’s eyes darkened at the dragon’s name. “No, not like this at all. These were once farms, _inbarathrag_ were herded – large mountain goats –“ he added at Ariana’s confused expression. “And we would grow leafy vegetables. When Smaug came, they were the ones that burned first.” He sighed heavily and Ariana placed a comforting hand on his arm. “But now the ground is too hard and too dead to grow things in once more.”

She nodded, sadly, and looked down. Her eyes were drawn to Peanut’s hoof, which had gouged a small dent in the land. Ariana’s brow furrowed, and she crouched down next to it. Peanut, not wanting to hurt his hobbit, stopped scraping.

Reaching out, she picked at the grey dirt. After a couple of minutes of scratching, she was able to lift away the final layer of flakyearth. She peered at the tiny hole she’d made – brownish soil, dry but there, greeted her. She reached in to take a pinch, and examined it.

“I don’t think this land is as dead as you believe, Thorin,” she murmured, and the king crouched next to her.

His eyes widened as he looked at the soil. “By Mahal,” he breathed. “I must get my people working on this straight away.” The pair stood, and Thorin’s eyes seemed to glow with new hope. “Thank you, my love,” he said, kissing her on each cheek. “Forgive me, but I must go.”

Blushing, Ariana waved it off humbly. “Of course, go now. I’ll see you after.”

Kissing her again, Thorin rushed back into the Lonely Mountain, calling for his advisors.

Peanut snorted softly at Ariana’s shoulder. She smiled. “Thank you Peanut,” she said, pressing her lips to his nose.


End file.
